Not to Pull Your Halo Down
by Shibby-One
Summary: Being kept at home and in a subdued, solitary environment is a sure-fire way to keep Ryou from hurting himself physically after an accident. But it's the worst way to keep him from dying within himself. [one-shot hopefully]


_[wrote this after starting the book Before Wings by Beth Goobie. Title comes from a line from the song "the Noose" by APC]_

**Being kept at home and in a subdued, solitary environment is a sure-fire way to keep Ryou from hurting himself physically after an accident. But it's the worst way to keep him from dying within himself. [one-shot hopefully]**

Note: the italics are flashbacks to the accident. If I marked every time there was a flashback, it would ruin the flow of the story.

Another note: Sorry for the kinda OOC-ness. This is before he meets Yugi-tachi, though.

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

**Not to Pull your Halo Down**

_Ka-plunk.__ Ka-plunk. Ka-plunk. Ka-plunk. Ka-plunk._

For some reason, I always found comfort in the monotonous tone of something dripping. Or something flapping in the breeze with a cackle. And even now, in this place, in this time, right here, I can stare out the window, the glass opened the tiniest fraction, and here a soft dripping that goes on forever and forever, or at least until this pouring rain ends.

I can lay back and relax my body and never take two thoughts to the fact that it had been raining so much. Who cares if it lets up? It's not like I'll be around to see another sunny day full of laughter and light. All of my days, even in the middle of summer, are dark, dreary, and rainy, the dark waters falling like crimson blood spurts from a fresh wound.

_Sirens were heard from a distance. It was a very cold night in January that the ambulance was called for a large, white, old house on the corner of a busy road. A boy was lying on the floor, facedown, in a bedroom. He was not breathing, and he had no vital signs._

It trickles and stains and leaves the dark reminder of something gone wrong. It makes you shiver and cringe at the thought, but it also draws you in like a vulture to a carcass. You can't take your eyes off blood. Not for a moment.

_The back of his shirt was ripped and two dozen slashes exactly could be seen. They were made with a knife, a butchers knife found under his window. The glass was shattered. The wood floor was stained mostly with dark blood. The boy's father was nowhere to be seen._

I can feel the soft pillows beneath me, on my bare shoulder blades. They are such a comfort compared to that gel shit they're always spreading on my back. This gauzy-stuff. It nearly burns my skin. It may be healing my wounds, but it kills. Oh, God, does it kill when they put it on.

And normally I have to lie on my stomach with my arms to my sides on that damned white table with a blanket pulled to my waist as they do it. With they're gloves and masks to avoid the fumes. If it's so dangerous, why are they letting my lie there with it on _me?_

Well, actually, they give me some sort of mask with this weird gas to put me to sleep after they put it on, but still...__

_The boy has had a lung disorder since birth. His lungs were collapsing in on themselves, shutting off his air supply. They had minutes to get to the hospital. They managed to get him onto a stretcher and into the ambulance in record time. His life is literally in their hands. One EMT's hands are stained with his blood. His blood isn't clotting. So he continues to bleed._

I attempt to push the window open more with my toes, but I can't reach. Only two of my toes can reach the glass, one barely brushing it.

Hmm. Well, that sucks.

I wonder where my family is. If I turn over onto my side and look at the fireplace, I can see the faded photo of my family. When was that taken? I had to be at least six.

I guess ten years then.

_He drifts in and out of consciousness for the next two days. He cannot breathe on his own. Hell, he can hardly breathe with a mask. His life is going to end in a few days. And his father is nowhere to be found. The boy mutters in his sleep various things, like how he was 'attacked by the Ring' and such. Police suspect a gang of some sort attacked him, and left him since he couldn't breathe. The sudden shock on his body caused his lungs to stop and begin to collapse from his disorder._

I can feel a small, warm trickle on my back. Is that blood? The solitary organism that can either kill you or save you?

I think it might be blood.

I turned around slowly to see if there are any bloodstains on the pillows. Yes, the upper left hand corner of a particularly big pillow. It has a bit of crimson blood there, shining and sticking like a curse.

"Stupid," I muttered, turning the pillow over and pushing it against the back of my chair. I reached up to grab the wound on my left shoulder, to see which one is bleeding. My hands fall over a thin line, one with blood bubbling out of it like a creek.

_Miraculously, with a bit of luck, the right medication arrives in __Tokyo__ from a lab in __Osaka__. It's distributed _

_to__ Bakura Ryou, with hopes of saving him. It works. His disorder is kept at bay. He is able to stay conscious for allotted amounts of time, and his mortality rates goes down rapidly._

"Ah. That one." Is my father here? I looked around. I can't hear him, and I doubt he's home yet. Oh, well. I stretched out my arms and laid them in my lap. The thick, white bandages wrapped around my chest move the tiniest bit when I move my shoulders.

They're so stupid, those damn bandages. They're always there, haunting me. Why don't they leave me be? Why do I have to have "support", as they say, for my lungs? Why don't they friggen support themselves, for God sakes?

The thin tub attached to my arm was being pulled tight at the moment. I didn't realize it, but I had moved my arms up, stretching the tube. I moaned and disregarded it. Does it matter?

No matter what they say, I'm gonna fuckin' die. It's not like I have anything to hold onto or any of that shit. For one, the only person who ever care about me is dead, and two, so is the other person who ever cared. That's why the family picture is so old. My mother died before another could have been taken. And then my sister died.

Why don't I just die, right now?

_He stays in the hospital for a little longer, a little longer being six more months. He falls behind in school, but has to re-learn many motor skills. A tutor comes to help him with his studies, but he's much to confused to really understand most of the lessons._

It'll save me from...

No, never mind.

Somewhere deep within the dark house, a clock chimes. At first it sounds like a siren, a loud, shrill call that jerks me out of my head. The memory of the sirens in the distance coming for me, me lying on the floor in my room...

I shuddered at the thought. Many thoughts were running through my head. My mixed memories of that night always come back in floods, then disperse as quickly as they had arrived. I'm still not quite sure what went on there. Only that my father got me out of Takajuri as fast as possible.

Now we're here. In Domino.

_The slashes to his back damaged his spinal chord. Many of his nerve endings were fried. Doctors were able to fix most of them, but sometimes they give and his arm will fail or his legs will fail. His arm will fall limp, his fingers will twitch, or his legs will give out completely. It's extremely dangerous, because if he falls from a high height or onto something hard or sharp, it could permanently damage him or even kill him._

Figures.

The closed stopped chiming.

It's five o'clock.

Where the hell is my father? I looked around once more to make sure he wasn't around. And he wasn't. It's not like he could just appear...

Something glints in the corner of the room.

There it is.

_His father moved them both to a town with a lot less stimulus. __Domino__, __Japan__. _

I have to turn slowly all the way around to squint into the darkened room and see it. My chair is propped by the window, pushed back a bit so I can stretch my legs to the window. And I can hardly move. My butt is friggen numb from sitting like this for so long.

But I can see it. Way across the room. Sitting on a table.

Underneath the photo.

It sits there like a harmless piece of metal, a piece of gold that had taken shape. It was lucky enough to take shape, to be molded into an amazing, beautiful ornament that was obviously older then anyone alive today.

But that's not what it truly is.

_He isn't allowed outside because of his father's fear of losing him. They had already lost both Ryou's mother and sister years before. However, leaving the boy inside all the time could lead to depression and suicidal thoughts._

"D-damn you," I muttered, moving my legs over the side of the chair. I have to be careful that I don't fall again... Damn slashes did something to my spinal chord, and now sometimes my arms and legs fail because of nerve damage.

Fuck it.

Slowly, I'm able to climb from the chair and stand while holding it. My back actually feels kinda better like this. I walked across the room, my arms out since the lights were off. My hair flopped in my face, this stupid white stuff growing out of my head. It always gets in the way. Which is why I pushed it back behind my ears.

I was glad when they had to cut most of it off, but it grows quickly.

I reached the table. That Ring was sitting on the table, the pointers falling over the edge. I reached out and picked it up, brushing the pointers under my fingertips. They clank together and jingle. I smiled.

"What are you?" I asked, running my fingers around it's tilted edge. It didn't reply. I shrugged it off and put it around my neck. It fell hard on my chest, a little cold, but also comforting at the same time.

Where did this feeling come from? This sudden feel of contentment and warmth... Well, anyway, it's better then hanging around in that chair.

I looked around. The rain was starting to let up.

A little better.

_Before the second accident, he was actually improving. He just gave himself too much stimulus in his mind and on his legs. He walked around for about ten minutes, then started breathing much faster. He didn't even realize it until it was too late, and he attempted to call a doctor._

My mood was greatly improving. I was kind of glad. Actually, it improved so much that I felt like I should walk around. The sun was coming out anyway, might as well go open more windows to let it in. The rain hasn't let up in _days._ Finally, the sun'll come out.

I smiled brighter this time. This Ring, it might be weird, but, it's still really cool. It makes me feel... Different. Like I know some grand secret no one else does.

_His rapid breathing threw off his nerves, forcing him to collapse. He hit his head on the hard wood floor. The shock this caused to his upper body caused him to stop breathing completely. His lungs expanded, then nearly imploded._

But at that moment, I can't believe I forgot about my condition.

Too much stimulus on the body can wreck what little spinal control I have.

_They were able to get him to the hospital before his lungs caved in. He was lost in a state of half-consciousness for four hours._

I kinda feel bad for my father. For the second time in a year, he had to come home with ambulances around and me lying on the floor. This time, though, the Ring as lying around my neck, the pointers all pointing in different directions. It wasn't until _after_ that day I realized what had truly happened to me.

So my nerves gave out. Big deal. Who cares?

_His lungs collapsed. He was placed on a respirator, which would hopefully bring his lungs back out. They hoped they did it in time. Bakura Ryou, the person, the soul, the mind, however, was lost. Even if he recovered, he wouldn't be an actual person. He'd be very different and disabled._

You don't need those in hell, anyway...

_...Your halo slipping down to choke you now..._

**. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .**

_[Odd ending, I know. Er... Not quite sure where this came from. It's actually kinda scaring me. Oh, well, we all write something that scares us, no? Er... blinks God, this is creepy...]_

**Shibby****-One**


End file.
